


I Became the Boss for You

by Evoxine



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Butt Plugs, Frottage, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 19:36:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13933860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Evoxine
Summary: Through years and years of hard work, Jongin finally makes it in the fashion industry. He's rewarded for his hard work at his first ever Paris Fashion Week with the stunning Oh Sehun. Since that day, his life becomes a whirlwind of silks, long legs, and dreams of a greater future.





	I Became the Boss for You

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally porn feat. plot, lmao.  
> Please don't expect too much out of this apart from a lot of porn!
> 
> Thanks to NCT U for the title.

When he was a mere child, Kim Jongin would spend inordinate amounts of time with his one of his sister’s Barbies, mixing-and-matching their clothes in order to create masterpieces. She had Ken dolls as well, but Jongin found Ken’s selection of clothing to be rather drab and boring, and thus focused all of his attention on Barbie instead. He loved her formal wear the most, and enjoyed slipping the doll into flowy gowns and spinning her on the balls of her plastic feet.

Over his preteen and teenage years, he’d accumulated five thick sketchbooks worth of designs. All of them are drawn and coloured by hand, with details about potential materials and methods of sewing, embroidery, and dyeing meticulously pencilled in by the sides of the sketches. His first sketchbook had started off as a hobby, but as his designs – and his drawing skills – improved, he started to realize that he actually possessed a decent amount of talent. Through hard work and perseverance, he could probably form a future for himself in the fashion industry.

With the support of his family, he enrolled into various fashion schools all around the world. At 17, he moved to Paris to pursue his dream. After six years abroad, Jongin returned to Seoul armed to the teeth with ambition.

Having saved a decent sum of money from his apprenticeship while in Paris, Jongin managed to rent a studio apartment to use as his work studio. He frequented the textile markets, going there so often that many of the store owners eventually came to befriend him. His time was spent divided evenly between his part-time job as a sales clerk at a boutique, home, and his studio.

His first finished piece was given to his oldest sister, as a thank you for having let him play with her Barbies all those years ago. It’s a simple dress – a champagne satin body overlaid with pale blue organza, complete with simple embroidery around the cinched waist. The hem skimmed the middle of her thighs, and the asymmetric neckline accentuated her shoulders. She wore it out for the first time to a party, and the small stack of Jongin’s business cards that she’d brought with her ran out in just the first hour.

Jongin’s presence in the fashion world grew steadily. By the time he turned 28, his brand name stood firmly at the top of Korea’s fashion designers, and he’d started expanding into menswear (well, to be honest, he’d just wanted to design some suits that would pair well with his dresses and gowns). _Kairos_ found its way onto multiple _Designers You Should Pay More Attention To_ lists worldwide, and Jongin began receiving love calls from celebrities in other countries who wished to be dressed by him. He made enough to finally establish a modest atelier in Paris, and that workshop is his pride.

At 30, Jongin finally made it big. He’d dressed two famous actresses for the Academy Awards – one of whom managed to snag Best Supporting Actress –, and eyes all around the world were, at long last, able to lay eyes on Jongin’s designs. He opened his first international boutique in Los Angeles just mere months after the Oscars, and everything just continued to go uphill from there.

Today, at the age of 33, Jongin’s working hard on his first ever haute couture collection to be shown in the upcoming Paris Fashion Week. He spends all of his time in his workshop in Paris along with fifteen other talented sewers, immersing himself in bolts of exquisite fabric, spools of thread, and containers upon containers of various types of beads and crystals. He’s lost count of how many times he’s pricked himself with pins and needles.

There are 55 pieces in the collection – 40 pieces for womenswear, and 15 pieces for menswear. While Jongin’s passion lies in creating one-of-a-kind gowns, he knows that expanding his repertoire into other styles (cocktail dresses, pantsuits, bodysuits, etc.) will definitely help bring more attention to his brand.

Jongin centers the colour schemes around the carefreeness of spring and the earthiness of summer. Pale pinks, nude shades, and lilac pieces contrast with those of deep emerald, silver, and prussian blue. He keeps the embellishments and embroidery intricate yet simple – they’re supposed to pull everything together, not be separate features that take up their own spots in the limelight.

He’s almost done with his debut Spring/Summer 2018 collection. There’re just a few pieces left to finish before they move on to preparing for the show. Paris Fashion Week begins in three weeks, and the models are due to arrive at Jongin’s workshop in ten days for their final fittings.

Jongin’s dreams are finally coming true, and he’s pretty sure he couldn’t be happier.

 

 

 

  
Twenty-five models are waiting in the adjoining room, but Jongin doesn’t have to time to oversee the fittings himself. His sisters are arriving in Paris in an hour, and he has to go pick them up. So he entrusts the job to his assistants, instructing them to take pictures and detailed measurements of anything that needs to be altered.

By the time he drops his sisters off at his penthouse and drives back to the workshop, there are only a handful of models left, surrounded by several tailors and seamstresses. Jongin barely casts a glance into the room before continuing into his office, where dozens of Polaroids have been pinned onto several large cork boards. He peers closely at them, sees how the clothes fit on the models – if anything needs to be taken in or released, he will need to get started on that as soon as possible.

In the end, Jongin determines that 8 pieces need to be altered. Nothing major, just some hemming and slight changes to waistlines. He spends a few days on them before calling the necessary models back for a second fitting. Once that’s done and dusted, he works with his assistants in selecting a collection of jewellery and shoes, before meeting up with the hair stylists and make-up artists and imparting his vision of his collection onto them. It’s a hectic week and a half, and Jongin’s more than a little drained by the time Fashion Week rolls around.

 

 

 

  
On the day of his show, Jongin finds himself flitting about backstage as the models get their hair and make-up done. He makes sure everything is in order and ready to go and that there’s enough water and food to keep everyone’s energy up. His oldest sister – the other’s out in the audience – takes way too many photos of him for his comfort.

Once the models start dressing, Jongin busies himself with making last minute adjustments to outfits as they get ready to head out on the catwalk. There are only 3 male models, so it’s always a little startling when Jongin comes face to face with a masculine frame instead of the feminine one that he’s infinitely more used to. He starts to get used to it, however, fingers smoothing down silk lapels in-between fluffing skirts and straightening laced sleeves.

His mind goes blissfully blank, however, when he makes the mistake of looking up into one of his male model’s faces as he tucks a corner of the shirt into the waistband of his pants – messily on purpose, of course.

The model gazes right back, unwavering. Jongin thinks, quite dazedly, that the copper-gold eyeshadow mix really brings out the intensity of the man’s eyes. A lock of hair – drenched in hairspray – manages to fall out of its coiff. Before Jongin even realises what he’s doing, his fingers are already busy tucking the strands back into place.

“Thanks,” the model says, eyebrow quirking.

Jongin licks his lips and takes a step back. His doesn’t take his eyes off the man’s face.

“You’re good to go,” he says, taking one last sweeping gaze down the model’s frame. Okay, Jongin knows that everything that’s going out on the runway is custom made to fit the models’ frames, but wow. The oxford blue silk shirt drapes perfectly over his shoulders and down his chest, and those fitted wool suit trousers cling wonderfully to mile-long legs.

If Jongin stares any longer, the model’s not going to make it out on the runway in time.

So he turns around abruptly, and doesn’t look back until he senses that the model’s gone.

He would be lying if he said that he didn’t take a peek at the TV mounted on the wall as the model strides down the runway.

 

 

 

  
The show is over in seventeen minutes.

At the end, Jongin steps out on the runway himself, flanked on both sides by his models and creations. He winks at his sisters, takes a few steps out, and bows low.

The applause is heart-rattling in the best way possible.

Jongin’s smile doesn’t fade from his face for hours.

 

 

 

  
Somehow, Jongin finds himself (more than) a little tipsy.

He’d been dragged to an afterparty once the day’s shows concluded. Flute after flute of champagne ends up down his throat and he ends up tucked snugly into an alcove, watching as models mingle with designers in an attempt to get booked for future shows. Well, some truly are just mingling for the social aspect of it – two gloriously tall women are pressed up against the wall, and one definitely has a hand up the other’s skirt – and they seem to be having _lots_ of fun.

Jongin’s brain is buzzing nicely, and he grabs a handful of overpriced pretzels to nibble on as he rests his heavy head against a plush cushion. He can feel the heavy bass of the music through the sturdiness of the sofa, and it’s lulling him into a doze. That is, until someone sinks down on the empty spot next to him and places a hand on his thigh.

“Unh?”

Blinking blearily, Jongin gathers enough energy to lift his head up and squint at the person next to him.

“Mr. Kim? If I may ask you something?”

If Jongin wasn’t a mouthful of beer away from being drunk off his feet, he would’ve recognized that voice in an instant. As it is, it takes him several seconds to scour through his memory for the owner – it’s much too dark to catch a clear glimpse of the guy’s face.

“You’re the,” Jongin says, sitting up a little straighter and trying to shake the fuzz out of his mind. “Ah – Model. For me. The hot one.”

An amused chuckle reaches Jongin’s ear.

“All the models who walked for you today are pretty hot, no?”

Jongin snorts and flaps a hand.

“No, you’re the one with that faint scar on your cheek. The _hot_ one.”

“My name is Oh Sehun. If you were wondering.”

“Maybe I was,” Jongin mumbles. He leans forward to grab a bottle of mineral water off the table.

The hand on his thigh doesn’t move.

“I wanted to ask,” Sehun says, shifting another inch closer. “If I could keep the first outfit I modelled today.”

“The – what? Why?”

“Because I want something to remember today by,” Sehun says. “I’ve never walked on the Paris Fashion Week runway before. Nor have I had anyone like you put their hand down my pants. So, may I?”

Something jolts in Jongin’s veins.

“Yeah,” Jongin answers. His voice is embarrassingly rough. “Yeah, you can keep them.”

“Thanks,” Sehun says, finally lifting his hand off of Jongin’s lap. Jongin can feel the heat of his palm sear through the fabric of his pants. Before Jongin can come to grips with what had just happened, Sehun leans forward and thumbs at his bottom lip.

“You had a flake of salt there,” Sehun informs him. Jongin stares into those liquid onyx eyes and feels the ability to breathe shoot out of his ears. Sehun sucks his thumb into his mouth and Jongin’s brain promptly short-circuits.

 

 

 

  
Jongin’s interest in menswear skyrockets after ~~meeting Sehun~~ Paris Fashion Week.

Over the course of a few weeks, he starts sketching out dozens of designs for a new ready-to-wear line that he wants to launch back home in South Korea. There are way too many silk shirts amongst his sketches, and Jongin refuses to think about Oh Sehun wearing them.

His decision to release a new line is horribly sudden – his suppliers, company executives, and employees struggle to come to terms with the sudden influx of work. There is only one _Kairos_ boutique in Seoul, but it’s a big store and there has to be enough stock to cater to the stream of demand that Jongin’s hoping will occur.

After a couple of months of intensive designing and fine tuning, Jongin selects twenty-two pieces to launch and sends them off for production. Then, he turns his attention to marketing. This part is a no-brainer. He already has a clear idea of what he wants to do. Or rather, who he wants to hire to be the face of his first full menswear line.

“I want billboards, television advertisements, and print ads,” Jongin says, resting his hands on the table and studying the representatives from his favourite advertising agency that he’s got seated in front of him. “I’ll leave the majority of the concept up to you, but what I do want is to have it set in the forest. Maybe have him barefoot, streaks of dirt across his face or down his neck – perfect but not so perfect. A windswept look, if you will.”

“We’ll work on it. Has he signed on to the project?”

“No,” Jongin says, twirling a pen between his fingers. “But he will.”

 

 

 

  
His doorbell buzzes at 9 in the morning.

Grumbling, Jongin pulls himself out of bed and shuffles over to his door to glare at the security screen. His frown melts off once he sees that it’s Sehun standing outside, a folder in hand and looking way too awake compared to Jongin himself.

He opens the door, and Sehun flashes him a bright, easy smile.

It’s been months since the day they had met – Sehun looks as though he’s put on a few extra pounds of muscle, and he’s got a nice, subtle tan going on. His hair’s gone from silver to jet black, and Jongin finds himself really liking the changes.

“Hi?”

“My agent dropped off the contract,” Sehun says in lieu of a greeting. “Thought I’d bring the signed copy over to you in person.”

“How did you get past security?” Jongin blurts.

“Oh. He recognized me, apparently. From an ad I did a couple years ago for, uh, socks.”

Jongin raises an eyebrow. “Right. Well, come in then. Give me a few moments to freshen up.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Does it look like I’ve been awake for a while?” Jongin quips, gesturing to his state of undress with a sweep of his hand.

Sehun looks down at Jongin’s sweats and threadbare tank. He winces. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Jongin says, turning towards the stairs. “Take a seat. There’s a coffee machine in the kitchen if you’re really sorry and would like to make up for it. Black, two sugars.”

 

 

 

  
“You have to know that this contract is the biggest thing I have ever been offered. Most of my work is done locally – being able to walk in Paris was already a dream come true, and now this? I don’t know how to thank you for this opportunity, but I promise I will do my very best in making sure your advertising campaign is successful.”

Jongin takes a sip of his coffee and exhales contentedly.

“You don’t have to thank me. In fact, I should be the one thanking you,” Jongin says.

Sehun looks adorably confused.

“This line was inspired by you,” Jongin elaborates, wrapping a hand around his coffee mug. “In silk shirts. If I remember correctly, you liked them as well, no? Enough to ask to keep one, anyway.”

Sehun flushes to the tips of his ears.

“Do you still have that outfit?”

“Yeah,” Sehun answers. He tucks a foot underneath his thigh, and Jongin tries not to stare at the strain of his jeans around the supple muscle. “I wear it occasionally. A lot of people compliment your clothes.”

“They’re probably just complimenting you,” Jongin shrugs. “The man makes the clothes.”

Sehun smiles down into his lap, and Jongin swallows a too-large mouthful of scalding coffee.

“So,” Jongin says, clearing his throat. “You’ve read through the contract thoroughly, I presume? Any questions?”

“Just the one. What are the rules on fraternization? With the boss?”

 

 

 

  
_It’s_ still _much too early for this_ , Jongin thinks dazedly, gripping the backs of Sehun’s thighs tightly. The model hums against his neck, and Jongin shivers when he feels teeth nibbling at the sensitive spot just behind his ear.

He’d answered Sehun’s question with a hoarse, “There are no rules,” and found himself with a lapful of sin the very next second.

“You – ah, fuck,” Jongin mutters, finally throwing caution to the wind when Sehun wriggles purposefully in his lap. Burying fingers into Sehun’s hair, he tugs the model’s head back and licks a hot stripe up the column of his neck, stopping when he reaches the jut of a full lip. With a single dart of his tongue, he manages to draw a pleased sigh out from Sehun’s mouth.

“That, sir, is the plan,” Sehun says pointedly, shaking his hair out of his eyes. He sneaks a hand between their bodies to fiddle with the hem of Jongin’s tee, the question evident in his eyes. _May I?_

Jongin arches his back off the couch in response – with a curve of his lips, Sehun tugs the shirt up, up, and off. Nails scrape deliciously down Jongin’s chest, and Jongin watches with a dry mouth as Sehun’s fingers trail across the lines of his abs. The tip of Sehun’s pinky finger casually catches on a perked nipple, and Jongin has to clench his teeth together in order to hold back a rather embarrassing sound.

“Off,” Jongin grunts, grabbing a fistful of Sehun’s top. Sehun obeys without any hesitation, and Jongin is soon rewarded with the sight of a simple, silver barbell adorning a toned navel.

“Sweet Jesus,” he groans, thumbing at the jewellery. “You’re killing me slowly, here.”

“I don’t wear it all the time,” Sehun says. “But if you like it…”

“I fucking love it,” Jongin admits. He drops his fingers to the button of Sehun’s jeans. “Are there any more surprises for me?”

Sehun shrugs innocently.

Indeed, Jongin discovers another pleasant surprise as he drags the zipper down to reveal neatly trimmed hair – and nothing else. “You came here without underwear?”

“This industry has taught me that,” Sehun says, standing to let Jongin push the rest of his jeans down those incredibly long legs. “Being able to undress quickly is a very important skill to have.”

“You’re a quick learner,” Jongin agrees, balling up Sehun’s jeans and chucking them across the room. “And what fresh hell is this?”

He presses his fingers against the black line wrapping around the top of Sehun’s left thigh.

“Tattoo,” Sehun whispers, settling back on Jongin’s lap and leaning in to mouth at his jaw. “It’s like I’m wearing a permanent garter belt.” He rocks up into Jongin once; Jongin feels the slick slide of Sehun’s erection against his belly – it sends curls of fire rocketing up his spine.

“You know, I really didn’t expect to get seduced at –” Jongin pauses to glance at the clock. “10:26 in the morning.”

“Morning sex is great,” Sehun says seriously. “I like it. Do you?”

Jongin wraps a hand around Sehun’s cock and gives it a few firm tugs. “Don’t usually do morning sex, but I’m open to potentially changing that.”

 

 

 

  
At 10:32 A.M., Jongin finds himself three fingers deep in Sehun’s ass with a pretty cock in his mouth. Sehun’s up on his knees, somehow managing to both fuck into Jongin’s mouth and grind down on Jongin’s fingers at the same time. He’s got a hand holding Jongin’s head in place, and the other’s grabbing onto an asscheek, pulling on it to give those fingers better access.

Jongin’s impossibly hard in his sweats, the fabric tenting obscenely and progressively getting damper with each moan that Sehun makes.

“I’m ready,” Sehun croaks, easing his cock out of Jongin’s mouth. Jongin glances up at him and licks his lips.

“There should be some condoms in that drawer over there,” Jongin says, gesturing to the side table next to the couch. Sehun leans over to get it, and his cock drags across Jongin’s collarbones. Jongin nearly comes in his pants.

When Sehun presses a condom into his free palm, Jongin removes his fingers and pulls his aching dick out of its confines. He doesn’t even both getting rid of his pants. Rolling the condom on, he spares a few seconds to slick himself up before reaching up to smack Sehun’s ass.

“You’re sure you want to do this?”

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?” Sehun demands, looking down at Jongin. “I’m so close to coming on your face, you have no idea.”

With that, Sehun lowers himself down on Jongin’s cock and exhales in pure bliss.

“Okay, _fuck_. I’m just gonna –” Is all he manages before he starts bouncing like his life depended on it. All Jongin can do is hang on, hands clamped tight around Sehun’s hips and eyes fixated on the mad bobbing of Sehun’s cock as he fucks up to meet Sehun mid-way.

The couch is sticking uncomfortably to his sweaty skin, and Jongin is pretty sure that his neighbour can see everything that’s happening right now if she’s home and glanced out of her kitchen window. But he could honestly care less, because Sehun is riding him like a world-renowned equestrian on his favourite horse, and he is fucking exquisite.

Jongin thumbs at the wet slit of Sehun’s cock, setting a steady rhythm that draws delicious whimpers out of the model.

“Oh my god,” Sehun babbles, shoving sweat-damp hair out of his eyes. “Oh fuck, I –”

“What do you want, Sehun?” Jongin doesn’t take his eyes off Sehun’s face. “Tell me what you want.”

“I don’t know,” Sehun cries, spasming around Jongin’s cock. “I – Take me. Just, fuck, _please_.”

Jongin shoves up and off the couch, an arm around Sehun’s waist the only thing holding him in place. Instinctively, Sehun locks his legs around Jongin’s hips and lets Jongin place him on the carpeted floor before releasing his hold.

“Hold them,” Jongin grunts, pushing Sehun’s knees up to the man’s chest. He drops a messy kiss on the corner of Sehun’s mouth and starts fucking into him with long, deep thrusts.

Sehun chokes on a mouthful of air and struggles for a moment before getting his breath back, chest heaving with exertion as Jongin drives into him with heat in his eyes.

“Harder,” he demands, “I want to go into my photoshoot five days from now, model your clothes and still be able to feel you inside me. And when those photos get printed or blown up into billboards, you’re gonna take one look at them and remember this fucking moment.”

Jongin comes with a shameless moan, and Sehun milks him through it with gentle squeezes of his walls around Jongin’s cock. By the time Jongin comes back to his senses, Sehun is still rocking down on Jongin – carefully, so as not to cause any discomfort while Jongin’s still oversensitive.

“You’re –” Jongin says breathlessly. Then, with a shake of his head, he pulls out, shuffles down Sehun’s body, and swallows Sehun’s cock down his throat.

It only takes the brush of his cockhead against the back of Jongin’s throat for Sehun to come with muffled sobs. Jongin doesn’t let a single drop go to waste.

 

 

 

  
The photographs from Sehun’s photoshoot arrive on Jongin’s desk a few weeks after their first… liaison. Jongin loves them – the agency had managed to bring Jongin’s vision to life, and Sehun looks like he’s a god of nature that was born to wear silk shirts and tight pants.

He picks his favourites, emails the agency with his choices, and tries not to think about how his dick is starting to fill out in his pants.

 

 

 

  
Jongin realizes that the photographs are the least of his worries when a rep from the advertising agency drops off the raw version of the commercial at his office barely a couple of weeks after. He pulls the file up on his laptop, and the first frame instantly brings vivid images to his mind. It’s a shot of Sehun’s bare back, the man himself in the middle of dressing himself in a shirt, surrounded by lush trees.

Swallowing, Jongin hits _Play_.

Two and a half minutes later, he finds himself trying to will away his erection. He has a briefing to attend in fifteen minutes, for fuck’s sakes.

Then, his phone buzzes.

_Did you like it?_

_Did I like what?_

_The ad. The photos. Everything._

_I did._

_I did my best._

_You’re good at your job – I wouldn’t have hired you if you weren’t._

_That’s not what I meant._

_What did you mean, then?_

_I did my best not thinking_ of _your cock up my ass the entire time I was at the shoot. The filming was much better, but that was only because I got myself off in the bathroom minutes before._

For the first time in decades, Jongin manages to bring himself off in less than a minute.

 

 

 

  
Cameras are flashing multiple times per second, and Jongin can see only white smeared across the insides of his eyelids when he closes his eyes.

He’s at the launch party of his new line, and there are more reporters – several from international fashion columns – covering the event than he had anticipated. There’s a great turnout of celebrities, ranging from idols to actors to sports stars, as well as fashion critics and fellow designers. He’s shaken so many hands that his fingers are starting to tingle. And yet, he hasn’t seen the man who is in all of the line’s promotional images.

“Looking for me?”

Jongin turns around to see Sehun leaning against the wall, looking delectable in one of _Kairos_ ’ suits.

“Trying to be the face of my suits as well?” Jongin teases, sweeping away flecks of imaginary lint off of Sehun’s shoulder.

“I wouldn’t object to that,” Sehun says, pushing a glass of champagne into Jongin’s hand. “But that’s not what today is about. Congratulations on the successful launch, Jongin.”

He clinks their glasses together, gaze holding onto Jongin’s as he tips his head back slightly for a sip.

“Wouldn’t have happened without you,” Jongin says, raising his glass. “So thank you, too.”

They take another sip.

Jongin lets his eyes roam over Sehun unabashedly. It’s been almost three months since they had last seen each other, and it’s like tasting water for the first time after an unbearably long drought. They’ve both been incredibly busy – Jongin with the new line and starting on designs for his next Fashion Week, and Sehun with other modelling projects.

“You look well,” Jongin finally says. “I saw your _Esquire_ spread.”

“Ah yeah, that was a big one, huh?” Sehun sets his glass down on a ledge and shifts closer. “It’s apparently a lot easier getting booked for covers if you’ve been hired by a world famous designer to be the face of his clothing line.”

“Well, your increased exposure will, in turn, benefit me, will it not? So how about we call this a mutually beneficial relationship?”

“A mutually beneficial relationship,” Sehun repeats, voice dropping several octaves as he moves even closer. “The best kind.”

“Come over tonight,” Jongin mumbles, suddenly enraptured by how pink Sehun’s lips are.

“I have a better idea,” Sehun says, taking a step forward and finally closing the distance between them. “I know how to get to the roof of this building. We’ll have to be quick, of course. Can’t risk anyone looking for you, can we?”

 

 

 

  
It’s so quiet up on the roof that Jongin can hear his blood rushing through his ears.

“You’ll ruin the suit,” Jongin says mournfully. “It’s hard to get bodily fluids off materials like these.”

“And yet you still have your hand down my pants,” Sehun points out, arching into Jongin’s grip.

“I’m not the one who loves going commando,” Jongin returns, twisting his wrist on the upstroke. “Judging from this patch of wetness, you’ve been half-hard for a while. That’s a big stain to get rid off.”

“Shut up,” Sehun laughs, grabbing Jongin’s free hand and pulling it around his back. “I have a surprise for you.”

Jongin’s fingers delve between Sehun’s asscheeks and land on something cool and hard.

“It’s why I was a little late,” Sehun continues, voice becoming breathier by the second as Jongin rubs along the rim of the buttplug. “I got, ah, a little distracted putting that in.”

“You know just what you want, don’t you?”

“I do,” Sehun responds cheekily. “I’m lucky in the sense that I usually get what I want.”

“So what do you want right now?”

Jongin tugs on the plug, and Sehun twitches with anticipation in his arms.

 

 

 

  
The streetlights twinkle up at him from where he’s bent over the ledge – the lights blur with every snap of Jongin’s hips, and Sehun thinks it’s a beautiful sight. Jongin comes with a nip to Sehun’s throat, and Sehun follows not too long after with a shudder.

Jongin plugs Sehun back up with a fond smile.

By the time they head back to the party, a fresh patch of wetness is already starting to form on the front of Sehun’s pants.

 

 

 

  
Once the new menswear line stabilizes, Jongin flies back to Paris to continue work on the upcoming haute couture line. Sehun visits him a couple of times a month, staying for a weekend or so before flying off for work. They spend those few days holed up in Jongin’s penthouse, tangled together in a mess of limbs and pleasure – it doesn’t take long before they’ve fucked on every possible surface of Jongin’s home.

They develop a comfortable bond, one that stays secure despite the constant distance between them. Jongin shows Sehun designs whenever he’s in Paris and asks for his opinions and suggestions, and Sehun takes to discussing big job decisions with Jongin, valuing the man’s insight above many others’.

Along the way, they start to learn more about each other – quirks and pet peeves, favourite foods and guilty pleasures, hobbies and talents outside of the fashion world. On the day they find out they’re both hardcore anime fans, they spend ten hours sprawled on the couch catching up on all the shows that they’ve been too busy to watch. Sehun falls asleep with his head pillowed on Jongin’s chest, and Jongin doesn’t have the heart to wake him up just to move to the bed. So they stay there, Jongin holding onto Sehun like a body pillow, and they sleep soundly.

Eventually, tabloids start to pick up on the amount of time they spend together, and they start having to field questions about the nature of their relationship. Jongin flat out refuses to answer them, but Sehun seems to enjoy toying with reporters whenever that question comes up. He’ll smirk, say something along the lines of “We just like each other’s company,” and move on with a glint in his eyes. For some reason, it never bothers Jongin.

“Hey,” Sehun says one day, sauntering into Jongin’s home with his weekend bag in hand. He drops his key on the marble counter, his bag down by the door, and toes his shoes off.

“Hi, you.” Jongin replies, attention still focused on his sketchbook in front of him. He’s almost done with designing, but he still has to decide on which pieces get to be part of the show.

“I have a gala to attend in a few days,” Sehun says, walking up to the designer and gently nudging his chair away from the table. He takes a seat on Jongin’s lap and circles his arms around Jongin’s neck. “Wanna be my date? It’s in New York.”

“Hmm.” Jongin lets his hands come to a rest on the swell of Sehun’s ass. “Only if I get to dress you.”

“You can dress me whenever you want,” Sehun says, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Jongin’s lips. “You can also undress me whenever you want.”

He shrieks in laughter when Jongin hoists him up and makes a beeline for the bedroom.

 

 

 

  
“Jongin! Jongin! Are you and Sehun dating?”

They’ve barely made it ten steps down the red carpet when reporters start bombarding them with that one question. Jongin rolls his eyes and ignores them – Sehun simply follows his lead, and they pose for several photos before continuing down the carpet.

“Jongin, is there a reason as to why you won’t give a straight answer regarding –”

“Look,” he interrupts, raising a hand. His jaw is set in a hard line, and Sehun can feel the waves of irritation radiating off the man. “I’m not answering it because I don’t have an answer, alright?” He chances a glance at Sehun, and Sehun looks back at him evenly. “I don’t _know_ what we are. But it’s something. That’s all I can give you.”

After a few more photographs, they’re finally presented with the opportunity to escape into the building.

“I think we should talk about this later,” Sehun says the second that they have a modicum of privacy.

“Yeah,” Jongin exhales. “We should.”

“But hey, let’s just have a good time right now, okay? I hear that the food tonight’s going to be really good,” Sehun says, squeezing Jongin’s hand. “Come on, I feel like we both need a drink.”

 

 

 

  
By the time they get back to their hotel room, exhaustion has settled, bone-deep, in their bodies. Sehun starts stripping the moment the door closes, leaving a trail of clothes in his wake as he disappears into the bathroom. The shower is already running when Jongin enters, steam wisping through the air and melting against the mirrors.

Jongin spends a few minutes removing his makeup and clothes before joining Sehun in the (ridiculously large) shower. They wash up in relative silence for a while, neither one wanting to be the one to start speaking.

“So what did you mean?” Sehun eventually says.

Jongin opens his eyes under the spray of water and gazes at Sehun.

“I doubt we can deny that there _is_ something,” he says. “Between us. But are we in a position to pursue it?” He grabs his face exfoliator and squeezes out a dollop on his hand. “You’re young – your career is flourishing, and you have so many opportunities out there waiting for you. Odds are, you’ll meet someone else, someone better, someone more suited for you.”

He turns around to scrub his face, and the sound of the water drowns out whatever Sehun might be doing.

“Not to mention the fact that I’m constantly stuck in my workshops – I don’t have the time to go around the world with you, go to all of your shows, go on little getaways just because we want to. It’s going to be years – a decade or two, even – before I’ll start to consider slowing down, and I don’t know if you want to stick around for that long.”

The hot water rinses away all the suds on his face.

“At this point, our careers are arguably the most important things in our lives. I… want to see where things could go, with you, but it’s selfish to ask that of you without telling you that there are many aspects you should consider.”

“I’ve considered them,” Sehun says, running soapy hands down his body. “Quite a while ago, actually.”

Jongin blinks at him. Sehun shrugs and steps underneath the water. It sluices down his frame, and Jongin feels a pang of yearning.

“I’ve thought about us,” Sehun continues. “And I want us. I’d rather give us a shot, and even if we don’t work out, at least I’ll know that it isn’t because we never tried. It’ll never be a waste of time.”

Honestly, Jongin can’t really argue with that.

 

 

 

  
They keep it quiet. Apart from their family members, Sehun’s manager, and Jongin’s personal assistant, no one else knows about the true nature of their developing relationship. Nothing much changes regarding how they act around the other – actually, nothing changes at all. The only difference is that now, they’re both aware of the fact that their feelings for each other have crossed over into the realm of ‘romantic’, instead of lingering around ‘sexual yet platonic’.

Sehun opens for Jongin’s Fall/Winter line at Paris Fashion Week. In subsequent interviews, Jongin makes sure to mention how Sehun’s inputs regarding the line have led to its development and production. While he answers every question regarding their work relationship, he smoothly glosses over questions that poke at their personal ties.

On their six-month anniversary, Jongin surprises him with an offer to be the face of _Kairos_ ’ upcoming Eau de Parfum range. When the news gets picked up by tabloids, speculation of their relationship intensifies – ever since cementing his position as one of the most sought-after models in Asia, Sehun is known throughout the industry as a model who is incredibly picky in regards to what brands he will represent, so him being the face for yet another _Kairos_ line is something worth talking about.

Sehun is still travelling around the world for shoots and runways, so they’re never photographed out together in public. He is, however, constantly snapped walking in and out of Jongin’s penthouse, and that really doesn’t help stop the rumours from circulating.

But despite the incessant questions and the sheer nosiness of the public, they’re happy.

 

 

 

  
Sehun dyes his hair a pale blue for the upcoming promotional period of _Seafoam_ , _Kairos_ ’ new fragrance. He films the commercial first – 40 odd seconds of him simply looking ethereal in a lagoon, clear waters lapping at the cut of his abdominal muscles and leaving his skin looking dewy soft. It’s simple and aesthetically pleasing, and Jongin spends an inordinate amount of time at home showing Sehun just how much he likes the commercial (and his new hair)

Jongin even manages to find the time to tag along for the photoshoot. They’re in Étretat for the shoot, tucked away from the public in a cove on Alabaster Coast with the famous chalk cliffs providing a perfect backdrop. Dressed in a white, unbuttoned cotton shirt and brown cotton pants (that only stay up on his hips thanks to the drawstrings), Sehun works the camera like the professional he is. His hair, left unstyled, flutters in the wind, and Jongin has never, in his life, felt his breath taken away like this.

“What’s with that look on your face?” Sehun strides up to him, bare feet kicking up grains of sand as he walks.

Without thinking, Jongin reaches out and tucks a few blue strands of hair behind Sehun’s ear. His hand stays cupped around the curve of his cheeks. Sehun’s eyes widen minutely, hyper-aware of the number of people around them, but he stays unmoving.

“You’re stunning. A natural. I’m… very happy to have met you, to be able to work with you, to be able to go home with you.”

He leans in, captures Sehun’s lips in a gentle kiss, and runs his thumb in a soft arc across a sharp cheekbone.

And that’s how, after almost a year of secrecy, their relationship becomes public knowledge. They couldn’t give less fucks about it.

 

 

 

  
_Seafoam_ tops various fragrance lists, and _Kairos_ generates enough revenue for Jongin to give every single employee – even part-timers – a bonus at the end of the year. He releases a limited edition version of _Seafoam_ in time for Sehun's birthday, packaged in a pale blue bottle that is an almost identical shade to Sehun’s hair. Only 412 bottles are released.

“What if I started a men's underwear line?” Jongin asks one night, peering at Sehun over the rim of his glass. “Would you model for it?”

“Are you really okay with close-up shots of my junk?” Sehun replies, grinning. “Everyone’s gonna see them.”

“Good point,” Jongin agrees. “Maybe I’ll do a lingerie line instead.”

“But if you asked me to model some custom-made underwear for you,” Sehun says, stretching out and draping his legs across Jongin’s lap, “I would do that.”

Jongin takes another sip of his scotch. “You would, huh?”

“Mm. I’ll have you know that I look quite good in a thong.”

A pause. Then: “Show me.”

 

 

 

  
“I didn’t think you owned something like this,” Sehun says casually, snapping the strap of a burgundy silk thong against his hip and gazing at a very naked Jongin sprawled across the bed.

“Research purposes,” Jongin shrugs, lying back against the pillows with his hands tucked under his head. “There was a brief period in my late 20s when I toyed with the idea of a lingerie line. I wasn’t very good at making them, though, that’s why I put the idea aside.”

“You made this?”

“I did. It fits you perfectly.” Jongin says, eyeing the way the fabric hugs the swell of Sehun’s package appreciatively. “Turn around for me?”

Sehun does, and Jongin’s already hard cock seems to swell a little more. The back string disappears between supple asscheeks, and if Sehun shifts a little, Jongin’s able to catch glimpses of smooth balls threatening to spill out of the limited material.

“Fucking hell,” Jongin sighs. “Get over here.”

Sehun ambles over, statuesque at this angle and under the soft lights of the bedroom. The bed dips when he climbs on, and Jongin finally gets his hands on that ass when Sehun flings a leg over his hip and settles down over Jongin’s crotch.

Warm palms come to rest on Jongin’s chest. Sehun rolls his hips languidly, eyes fluttering at the contrasting textures of the silk and Jongin’s cock rubbing up against the underside of his erection.

  
“I see why you like silk so much,” Sehun says. He doesn’t stop moving his hips, and Jongin can’t resist touching the wetness beading on the cockhead that’s peeking out from the band of the thong.

“I love silk,” Jongin agrees, licking the taste of Sehun off his finger. “But I like you in silk even more.”

It doesn’t take long for the rubbing to pick up speed. The material slips to the side from the constant movement, and Sehun moans, low and dirty, when their precum mixes to form a slick slide.

“Look at you,” Jongin murmurs, gently squeezing Sehun’s ass. “Stunning.”

A whine escapes from Sehun’s throat, and Jongin swipes up a bit of precum on his finger before bringing it down to Sehun’s waiting pucker.

“Oh god, keep doing that,” Sehun pleads. Jongin rubs tight circles around Sehun’s hole, dipping the tip of his finger in ever so often, coaxing sweet moans out of the model writhing on his lap.

“I want to come,” Sehun pants, “fuck, please –”

Jongin pushes his middle finger all the way in, presses down on Sehun’s prostate, and triggers the orgasm that Sehun so desperately needs. Come lands all over Jongin’s chest, and Sehun’s cock twitches feebly as it spends.

“Sit on my face,” Jongin says, cleaning up the mess on his body with his hands. Sehun whimpers as he inches his way up Jongin’s torso. Exhausted, all Sehun can do is hold onto the headboard for dear life as Jongin licks his way into his ass, the string of the thong rubbing roughly against the hole in the best way possible.

A glance over his shoulder tells Sehun that Jongin’s enjoying the hell out of himself – he’s got a hand wrapped around his leaking cock, and the flesh is flushed tantalizingly red.

Somehow, Sehun manages to get another erection in just a few minutes’ time, and he comes for a second time just by the pure talent of Jongin’s tongue.

He collapses on the bed, dick spent and asshole still tingling with pleasure. Jongin’s looking equally fucked out, come drying on his stomach and lips swollen.

“I’ll be sure to make some pieces in your size when I start on that lingerie line,” Jongin croaks out.

 

 

 

  
They land a _GQ_ cover together.

The final photographs selected for the spread are more than a little suggestive – they’re shirtless for the whole shoot, and they’re touching in _every_ photograph. They’re not complaining, of course, and neither are the consumers.

Surprisingly, the interview had substance to it. Their favourite question, arguably, has to do with their work relationship.

_Q: How would you say your career has changed and/or developed after meeting each other? Were there any creative differences that led to disputes? What about inspirations?_

_OSH: Before I walked for Jongin – and consequently, before my mainstream success –, my gigs mainly consisted of catalogue modelling, with the occasional project for mainstream brands such as_ Gap _or_ Topman _. After having the chance to model haute couture, I realized that fashion really has varying levels of depth to it. Clothes that are mass produced don’t contain the essence of the designer – they are a means to an end; money in, money out. But with Jongin’s pieces, I see how much time and effort he spends on each of them, how each shirt or dress has a vision behind it, how he visualizes the clothes to be a part of the person, not just something that one wears. Haute couture isn’t about money – yes, the clothes are often worth a lot, but that’s not why designers like Jongin do what they do. They design because it’s their_ passion, _because they want to produce something unique, something one-in-a-million. They push themselves to be the best that they can be. And I think that’s commendable._

 _KJI: I’ve always designed an article of clothing with a focus on the piece itself. I’ve never looked at someone and found inspiration within them, never wanted to create a piece to embody someone’s being. Sehun… brought something out in my clothes that I had never noticed before. Perhaps I’m just biased, but to me, he told a story with my garments. The first time I laid eyes on him, in one of my shirts, I felt a pull. A pull of wanting to find what it was that made me want to create more and better myself. Since then, he’s been the muse behind many of_ Kairos _’ lines. In fact, I’m launching another label soon – one targeted to teenagers and young adults –, and the line of jeans in that label is inspired by him. It’s exciting, being with him. My mind is never bored, and he constantly pushes my work closer to perfection._

Sehun also really likes this question:

_Q: What was the moment that you realized you wanted to be with him?_

_OSH: We were out at a gelateria in the heart of Paris – the store had dozens of flavours, and somehow, he knew what I wanted without asking me. The fact that he was observant and knew me enough to determine what I would like… it sounds silly, doesn’t it? At the end of the day, it’s just gelato. But it meant something to me._

_KJI: I don’t think there’s a particular incident that led to that realization for me. It was progressive, the accumulation of many memories that we’d shared together. It was… waking up next to him, hearing his honest inputs on my designs, having someone to laugh with, being able to cook for him. Our related careers helped – we understood each other’s hectic hours, the requirement of being apart for days or weeks because of work. He was just… really easy to fall for._

_OSH: Well, now my answer sounds incredibly stupid, doesn’t it [laughs]?_

Within a week, the issue sells out. 

**Author's Note:**

> 1) In this fic, Sehun is approximately 6-7 years younger than Jongin.  
> 2) The timeline is vague, partly because FWs don't have a set schedule every year, and partly because I have no idea how long it takes to launch fragrances, create a haute couture collection, etc.  
> 3) 'Kairos' is Greek for 'opportunity'.  
> 4) The gowns/dresses that Jongin designs are inspired by the designs of Elie Saab – designer of literally the most beautiful dresses out there.  
> 5) I also kinda wanted Sehun to be a powerbottom here, but idk if that came across even minutely lmfao  
> 6) I have left the ending open on purpose: if anyone wishes to see more of this AU, leave prompts down below! I don't know enough about the fashion world to really build on this fic, but I am always open to more porn one-shots involving clothes or the lack thereof ;)
> 
>  
> 
> [Click for Links!](https://bluedveins.wixsite.com/evoxine)


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